I was at a indoor pool in California where my Mom was picking me up. I was chatting with some girl and sneakin some beer. When my Mom came, some kid from the locker room was freaking out about a dead body in the locker room, so I refused to go since I don't do well with dead bodies. Eventually I was curious enough to go in and there was a body on the floor, but my Dad was not dead. I ran over to him and kneeled and held unto him, freaking out. I could sense he was having a heart attack. "Dad, I love you!", is what I was sobbing over and over as I rocked back and forth, watching the man who helped make me who I am die. I told him, "Your Dad would have been so proud of you" and he grabbed the back of neck and pulled his forehead to mine. With the most passion I had ever seen in his face, he said quite strongly, "I know." These words shot straight to my heart because I knew he was telling me he was proud of me. He went limp in my arms. I fell backwards on the floor and began weeping as my soul bottomed out. The clock in the room read 11:23.

I woke from this dream, needless to say, a little shaken. I had to get a drink of water and to write it down. When I went back to bed, I had tearful eyes thinking about if my Dad really died and how my Mom would be so out of it. I would drop everything to be with her. It would be the right thing to do.

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